


a quiet, casual thing

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: It doesn’t mean anything, when he starts spending time at Peter’s downtown apartment--it’s nicer than the loft, and Peter has a better library and on the nights when his father works the night shift and his nightmares press a little too close, the couch is comfortable.





	a quiet, casual thing

[ ](https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--wKu_XwPoL4/Ww2Kv1kdZQI/AAAAAAAADlw/mtGDw6b4fDQLwRDCA0mgq9WRFX4vqn9dgCLcBGAs/s1600/quiet%2Bcasual%2Bthing%2B%25281%2529.jpg)

It’s not serious. This thing they’re doing, it’s casual--it’s sex because he’s gorgeous and Stiles is a senior, and  young enough that anyone remotely interested in his dick is going to get an enthusiastic yes. 

It doesn’t  _ mean _ anything, just that he really likes it when Peter holds him down and fucks him with a rough brutality that makes him come so hard he can’t breathe, can’t fucking  _ see _ . 

It doesn’t mean anything, when he starts spending time at Peter’s downtown apartment--it’s nicer than the loft, and Peter has a better library and on the nights when his father works the night shift and his nightmares press a little too close, the couch is comfortable. 

Peter catches him breaking in once and rolls his eyes before wordlessly throwing a key at his head and shoving him to his knees. Stiles gives him a blowjob so enthusiastic it makes the wolf howl, when he finally comes. 

 

~*~

 

They were comfortable together, in a way that Stiles never really expected. For so long, Peter was the creepy outsider, not quite pack and not quite enemy--and he was happy with that, because Peter had hurt so many people. 

But somewhere along the way, Derek left for parts unknown and Stiles found himself on the outside, standing next to Peter. Too quick to pull the trigger, too much blood on his hands, too much chaos while possessed by the nogitsune, too many other voices in Scott’s ear. 

He thinks he’d mind more, if he were still the stupid boy who dragged Scott into the woods at sixteen. 

He doesn’t mind so much now. Peter understands him, understands his demons and his choices, and never argues when Stiles picks up his bat and heads into the night to kill the latest threat, merely follows along, content to help. 

When Stiles’ graduates, Peter gives him a dagger made of obsidian and etched with runes, delicate and light in his hands and says, “It’ll kill anything you find in Beacon Hills.” 

Stiles isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. When he finds a new bat--aluminum wrapped in iron and copper and coated with mountain ash and mistletoe, warded and spelled by a voodoo priestess in New Orleans, Peter shrugs and says it made sense to upgrade that as well. 

Stiles watches him but he doesn’t say anything about it. Later, he rides Peter in their bed, slow and easy, the way he so rarely does, and Peter watches him with eyes that gleam and Stiles shakes through his orgasm as he kisses him, soft and desperate. 

 

~*~

 

Derek comes by sometimes. Not often. He’s happier outside of Beacon Hills--Stiles thinks that Peter would be too, but he can’t quite let go of the land. But Derek is protective, likes to see for himself that Stiles is still in one piece, so he comes home, sometimes. The first time, Stiles thinks Derek will lose his shit, throw Peter into a wall or kill him again. 

Instead he watches them together, and when he slips through Stiles’ bedroom window, he’s quiet and pensive.

“I think you’re good for each other,” he says. 

Stiles laughs. Tells him that it isn’t serious, just casual sex, and Derek gives him a look he is intimately familiar with, the one that says Stiles is far too stupid to live. 

Stiles is exceptionally good at ignoring those looks. 

“Take care of him for me,” Derek says, and then he’s slipping away. A few days later he vanishes for good, and Stiles gets a text letting him know that he was heading to Alaska to check out a yeti sighting. 

Peter makes a face when he gets the text and Stiles pauses, in the middle of making dinner. 

“Does it bother you, that I’m friends with Derek?” 

It’s a fair question, Stiles thinks. If Derek were a little less straight and stuck around Beacon Hills--sometimes he wonders if the friendship would have shifted to something  _ more. _ Not as often, anymore. He’s mostly just glad Derek is there, a dry wit texting him irregularly and somehow managing to be one of his best friends. 

Hales, he thinks, grumpily. They slip right under his skin. 

Peter blinks at him. “Of course not. I mind that you reek of him.” 

Stiles grins, and turns off the stove, letting the pasta sauce simmer as he loops his arms around Peter’s neck. “You wanna fix that?” 

Peter’s gaze flares hot and then hoists Stiles up and carries the laughing boy to bed. 

 

~*~

 

He thinks about it sometimes. About the way Peter will scent mark him. About the way he keeps himself, braced protectively, between Stiles and any unknown werewolf. Sometimes, between Stiles and the pack. 

Peter is a possessive bastard, but he’s that way about his goddamn french fries. The boy he casually fucks is bound to experience that too. 

Sometimes, he finds crumpled phone numbers in the trash. Once, he’s getting their laundry together and finds the shredded remains of one of Peter’s v-necks, carrying the faintest trace of perfume, crumpled in the corner. But Peter doesn’t date other people, and Stiles wonders about it sometimes. 

He doesn’t date either. 

 

~*~

 

The Sheriff threatens him, once, a few weeks into Stiles’ first semester at Beacon Hills University, and Peter is so amused he rides Stiles, murmuring, “I wonder what he’d think if he knew when I get you like this, all spread out and pretty and begging, I can make you call me Daddy.” 

“Peter,” Stiles gasps, and Peter tuts, slowing the roll of his hips to something torturous and teasing, his fingers plucking at Stiles’ pink nipples until he thrashes on the bed and sobs, “Please, Daddy, please, just, let me,  _ please, Daddy.”  _

The laugh he gives is giddy and triumphant and gorgeous  and the orgasm Stiles has is even better. 

 

~*~

 

Peter asks him to move in the summer before his junior year at BHU, while Stiles is searching for a cheap apartment and bemoaning his lack of job. He’s slumped on the couch, and Peter’s head is in his lap, idly watching TV while Stiles plays with his hair and looks at apartments on his phone, and he says it lazily. 

“Just move in here.” 

Between commercials. Like it’s a normal thing to offer to the guy you’ve spent the past three years killing creatures of the night with and casually fucking. 

Stiles looks at him, and Peter doesn’t look back, just says, bored, “It was the boyfriend. He killed her because the husband hired him.” Stiles snorts and puts his phone down. 

Peter doesn’t say anything else about it, and Stiles doesn’t say yes--but a week later, he’s moved in and they have loud messy sex over his desk before Peter drags him into a bath where he jacks Stiles off so slow and lazy, Stiles almost doesn’t realize he’s coming until after it’s over. 

 

~*~

 

It’s in the middle of his senior year, while they’re eating breakfast, that Stiles looks at him. 

The day isn’t special--Peter slept late and shuffled out to press a kiss to Stiles bare shoulder before he took the tea Stiles had ready for him and collapsed in his chair at the table. Stiles is writing the grocery list, with Peter’s contribution and accepting bites of egg that Peter feeds him because Peter thinks he doesn’t eat enough, and he looks at Peter. 

It’s not special. It’s ordinary and unremarkable, like everything in their relationship has always been. But he stares at Peter and he feels emotion swelling up in his throat, and he realizes, he doesn’t ever want this to end. He wants their ordinary, unremarkable, perfect fucking life.

He wants to do this with Peter every Saturday for the rest of his life, fill up a lifetime with ordinary moments and dinners with his dad and Derek in their guest room and fucking amazing sex. He wants lazy afternoons petting Peter’s hair while Peter dozes and purrs, and arguments in the produce section and Scott’s annoyed disgust when they stumble into pack meetings, late and smelling of sex. 

He wants to fight every evil bastard in their town with Peter at his side, and wants to face every perfectly normal day with their quiet casual love. 

Because it is. 

Somewhere along the way, he fell in love with this egotistical, surprisingly kind bastard, and he doesn’t ever want it to end.

“I love you,” he blurts out and Peter’s head snaps up, eyes wide and shocked.

For a moment, he thinks he fucked up, that it’s not what Peter wants, that he read this--the years together and everything between them--wrong. But Stiles has been running headlong into danger for years, so he doubles down and adds, quickly, “We should get married.” 

And then Peter smiles, and he’s sliding into Stiles lap and kissing him and Stiles thinks that maybe he isn’t nearly as clever as Peter thinks he is, because how the hell had he ever thought  _ this  _ was casual. 

 

~*~

 

It’s a quiet, casual ceremony. Neither of them care about the pageantry, or other people’s opinions. They tell Derek and John, and Stiles thinks that having just them there is exactly right, as right as Peter, standing pale and smiling next to him as they repeat their vows. 

Derek smiles, proud and pleased,  and his Dad cries, and Peter looks so fucking smug and disbelieving that Stiles wants to drag him home and push him into their bed and fuck him until he’s screaming. 

He doesn't. They go to dinner with John and Derek first, and he leans over, and murmurs into Peter’s ear, “When we’re done, I’m going to eat you out for  _ hours _ before I ride you.” 

Derek throws a roll at him and Peter kisses him, sweet and hard and full of promise, before he turns back to John and his exasperated expression and Stiles smiles. 

It’s quiet, casual. It’s perfect. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://areiton.tumblr.com/)!


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